Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Ivy was right. After the BBC interview, articles appeared in other mainstream newspapers, lifting his quote from the live. Some articles focussed on the story, while others used the clip of Ivy falling over.

Quinn watched the report and realised that no one could hear Harold's shouting. Blair's microphone only picked up their interview. If Ivy hadn't run into the frame, then they would have got away without seeing Harold.

Quinn found himself at the back of the shop, away from the prying eyes of the public, who dispersed as night drew in and temperatures dropped. He hid away from Harold, who stood his ground until 8pm, disappearing when he received no attention. Quinn's phone kept ringing, but not with interview requests. His mother was ringing, no doubt to ask him what he had done, and why Harold was so angry.

Quinn now sat at the altar of the old church with Ivy and Blair.

‘They want to do a sit-down interview with you for the online team,' Blair said, his eyes on his phone. ‘Looks like they want something for their website. Gives you a chance to talk more in-depth about everything. Up for it?'

‘I guess so.'

‘Yes, he is,' Ivy said. She had her own requests for interviews because of her fall, which had gone viral.

‘How do you feel?' Quinn asked her.

‘Oh, it's all for the cause,' Ivy said. ‘I knew what I was doing.'

‘I don't think you did,' Blair said, looking at her with his intense piercing eyes.

‘No, well,' Ivy dismissed. ‘People are talking. That's the main thing. Do you know how long it might take for this interview tomorrow? Only I've got him lined up with The Guardian, Mirror…'

More interviews. Quinn wasn't sure he could handle it.

‘It won't take too long. An hour or two at the most. We can get everything we need,' Blair assured her. ‘Don't suppose you could get Noah in, could you?'

‘Noah?'

‘Well, an author endorsing it is pretty big news,' Blair said. ‘These stories can disappear from the limelight. Adding another name to it helps get people talking.'

Through all the bother of the day, Quinn had thought very little of Noah, except for the fleeting and dying hope he would arrive to see the interview. Of course, why would he have turned up? They weren't friends. They had that drink and … well, it meant nothing, didn't it? Quinn couldn't expect the world from him. He'd been with him to celebrate the interview, not knowing where it would lead, and that was that.

Quinn felt gratitude for Blair being in town. Without him, the BBC interview wouldn't have happened.

‘I'm tired.' Quinn hoped Blair would drop the topic of Noah.

‘I don't blame you,' Blair said. ‘I can be here tomorrow around ten-ish.'

‘For the interview?'

‘The very one.'

‘He'll be here,' Ivy said.

‘You will be, too?'

‘You want me here?'

‘I'd quite like that.' Blair smiled.

Oh, my god.

Blair and Ivy?

No.

Quinn watched Ivy blush and giggle, and the two of them disappeared to the front of the shop, where Ivy saw Blair on his way. He heard the door close and lock, and Ivy was back, failing to hide a beaming smile.

‘Oh, what a day.'

‘Be careful with that one,' Quinn said.

‘I'm a grown woman,' Ivy said. ‘But I will. Charming men like him are too good to be true.'

‘Charming men don't exist.'

‘You do.'

‘Oh, Ivy,' Quinn simpered. ‘Straight men, then.'

‘Oh, I don't think he's straight.'

‘What?'

‘Bisexuals exist, Quinn, you should know that.'

Quinn looked at the bisexual flag hanging from the roof above Ivy's head. ‘I know that.'

‘Everyone knows Blair is bi.'

‘Do they?'

‘Someone hasn't read his book.'

‘Can't say I have,' Quinn said. ‘He was flirting with you just now.'

‘Hogwash,' Ivy dismissed. ‘No, right now we have to stay focussed on this issue. You're not losing this shop, Quinn. There's anger here. People will fight.'

‘Well, we'll see.'

‘None of that attitude, please. The law of attraction always works.'

‘What's the law of attraction?'

Ivy's eyes widened. ‘Esther and Jerry Hicks?'

Quinn drew a blank.

‘Oh my gosh, Quinn.' Ivy shook her head. ‘You own a bookshop and don't know who they are?'

‘Authors?'

‘Gurus,' Ivy said. ‘They share what an out-of-this-world being known as Abraham shares with them. The law of attraction that works around us. What we think, what we feel, we attract. It's all about being in the mindset that good things will happen, and they will. Manifestation. If you believe and feel like this is a lost cause, and your shop is gone, then it's gone. But if you believe it is safe, that it won't go, then it will stay.'

Quinn sighed, getting to his feet. ‘If only it were that simple, Ivy.'

‘It is. We humans complicate things. Is it so hard to believe there are forces out there that we can work with?'

Quinn, his head pounding, could think of nothing but a paracetamol and some water, and a night in front of the TV watching Eastenders.

He said goodbye to Ivy as he locked up the shop. The street was quiet now, with Christmas lights reflecting off the snow. He shivered in the cold and turned to his apartment door, heading inside, feeling the warmth and reflecting on the day.

All day the wheels had been in motion, rushing down the track, and now he was at a standstill. Not a crash, but not safe yet. If all of this didn't work, then nothing would. As he unlocked his apartment door, he was hoping he had sent a coherent message to Harold. If this was just business, then Quinn taking it national was just business, too. Businesses had to survive, and Quinn's interview was his attempt to survive. It had happened, and it had gone better than he could have expected.

Maybe Ivy was right. She wished for this so much, believed it would happen, and it did.

Either manifestation was at work, or the stars had aligned. That, or Bloody Blair Beckett couldn't wait to be the saviour, the hero, the saint.

As Quinn shut the door, his phone rang again. His mother calling.

Sighing, he answered.

‘Harold is fuming.'

‘I don't care.'

‘What did you say about him?'

‘I didn't say a thing about him. Just that I was being evicted.'

‘The press is saying his firm is evicting you, Quinn. You must have told them.'

‘They're journalists, Mum. They're going to put two and two together.'

‘Is that him?' Harold's voice came from somewhere in the background.

‘Don't put him on, Mum.'

‘Let me talk to him.'

‘Leave it be, Harold.'

‘Tell him he is ruining my life!'

Quinn laughed, out of delirium more so than humour. ‘I'm ruining his life? He's the one taking away everything I live for.'

‘The press is hounding him, Quinn.' His mother sighed. ‘They're outside the house.'

‘That's not my fault.' But guilt plagued his body.

‘What are we to do?'

‘Go on with your daily life,' Quinn said. ‘And don't speak to the press. Mum, I promise you I won't mention him. But this is my business that is under threat. You best believe I'm going to do everything in my power to keep it alive.'

He hung up and ignored her when she called back.

If manifestation was real, then Quinn focussed on attracting his power. It was time to find his voice.